


Imagine: Castiel sweetly reminiscing about the first time he met you.

by webcricket



Series: Castiel Imagines [36]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Reminiscing, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 23:13:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14223903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webcricket/pseuds/webcricket





	Imagine: Castiel sweetly reminiscing about the first time he met you.

“Where’d you go, Cas?” your questioning voice penetrates the quietude of the library, syllables swirling in the firmament of dust arising from the ancient tomes gathered on the table and lofted in the air as you slam shut the volume before you to reach for him.

The angel sits – silent, still, and deep in thought with a forgotten text in his lap. His distant blue irises resolve their gleaming focus at registering your words to contemplate your palm clasped over his thigh – your touch tender and at once anchoring. “I, uh-” he halts and peers around to affirm he remains in the bunker where he sat beside you hours ago before his mind wandered in reverie. His gaze lands on the compact concerned smile quirking your mouth. “Nowhere?” he offers in honest assessment of his physical location.

Your smile relaxes, spreading languid and wide to crinkle your eyes. “You got that far away look again.” Your fingers squeeze the thick arc of his leg, tips prodding solid muscle beneath the smooth fabric of his trousers. “What were you thinking about?”

Wistful smile twitching the corner of his mouth, his regard drops to your grounding grasp. Sliding his hand to blanket yours, he flips your palm upward to nudge his fingers into the spaces between, enveloping your skin in that electric heat unique to him. “You remember the day we met?” His eyes flit upward to search your fondly softened features.

“Yeah, of course.” Attention darting left in remembrance, you suck your lower lip between your teeth and grin at the memory of the angelically awkward introduction. “It was at that motel in Sioux Falls. You were lurking outside my door like a creeper waiting for Sam and Dean and I practically bowled you over on my way to the vending machine.”

“Yes, and a strong wind was rustling the old maple tree on the corner of the parking lot. A branch snapped free just in that moment.”

“Right,” you agree, the tittering protest of the leaves and the sharp crack of wood almost audible in your mind, “a storm was rolling in – an apocalyptic omen and the very reason Bobby gave me the Winchesters’ number.” You mistakenly believed then the petrichor scent of the atmosphere and the static charge veiling your flesh in goosebumps came courtesy of the threatening thunderstorm when, in fact, it was and is attributable to the angel.

Cas bobs his scruffy chin. “But despite the oncoming squall, the sun still shone through the gathering clouds-” The memory of sunbeams reflected on your skin is nearly as warm as the affection flickering in the angel’s unwavering gaze.

“Where are you going with this?” you interrupt, delighted by but nonetheless wondering at what point this trip down memory lane leads to an answer to your original query.

Scooting to the edge of his seat, he inclines his body closer to you. His tone descends to a rough rasped whisper. “I was thinking about the rays of light streaming through the dancing leaves to dapple highlights of gold through your hair. How you laughed and scrunched up your nose when a few windswept wisps broke free from behind your ears and the tendrils tickled your nose and eyelashes.” Fingers outstretching, rare stretched smile brightening his darkly handsome features, he swipes a strand of hair sweeping onto your forehead and presses his palm to cup your cheek. “I was thinking of that utterly foreign compulsion I felt then to reach out and brush the stray locks aside. How it was the first time since my creation that I ever wanted to do something without any motivation other than the selfish pleasure experienced in doing so.”

“You remember all that?” you gasp, leaning into his gently cradling hand.

Narrowing the distance between you, the breath of his confession caresses your parted lips in passionate promise of the kiss to follow. “I remember everything.”


End file.
